


Only in Dreams

by SilentSinger



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentSinger/pseuds/SilentSinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We see what it means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only in Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote following [this](http://okimi79.tumblr.com/post/139386192874/hi-there-i-was-wondering-if-you-would-be-willing) anonymous prompt on tumblr.  
> Takes place sometime between S02E09 and S02E11.  
> I'm going to hell for this one.

For a murderer, Edward Nygma was an amiable fellow. Before their relationship had begun, back when Oswald was merely a house guest – broken and beaten both physically and mentally, Oswald had always felt a sense of sanctuary. After single-handedly manipulating his way to the pinnacle of Gotham’s crime syndicate, Oswald considered himself an excellent judge of character. Because of this, while he’d never felt threatened by his host, Oswald always felt there was something more to Edward below the surface – like a loosely painted gloss covering a garish, mustard yellow floral print. He often wondered just how much scratching it might take to reveal this potentially abhorrent underbelly.

As a lover, Edward was tender and considerate, and while they’d both agreed to being better off unencumbered, the truth of the matter was that they both needed one another – for companionship, and for solace from their respective troubled pasts.

 

Oswald Cobblepot felt safe with Edward Nygma, but sometimes – he didn’t want to.

****

Edward’s recent transformation was a process that was known only to himself. The protracted battle of ego and id, and the zenith of two halves fusing into one superior whole. It had come at a price, of course; while within Edward there was no love lost for the late Officer Dougherty, he did periodically lament the passing of Miss Kringle. She had been loving and warm, and most importantly, she’d accepted him – except when it had actually mattered. Sadly, she’d had to go, because Edward – fully aware of what he was capable of becoming – was not about to go to prison. Her murder was an impetus and a necessary evil.

There were flickers, within himself, of each half of his personality becoming prominent at times, but for the most part since his rebirth there was a sense of inner harmony – of acceptance. If asked, Edward would state that he was at peace.

This statement was sometimes betrayed by his subconscious, however, and its occurrence was becoming more frequent since his relationship with Oswald had deepened. Edward would wake in the night, the harsh light of the cold moon only accentuating the ever-present green neon that would periodically bathe his apartment, his forehead drenched in sweat as, with white knuckles, he clutched the bedsheets tightly.

The dream would play out as it always did – a replay of the argument with Miss Kringle which had ultimately led to her death, except in the dream, when Edward grabbed her to spin her around and pin her to the wall, it wasn’t Miss Kringle at all. Ebony hair matted with perspiration, and from above Edward’s hand – which was clamped firmly over his victim’s mouth, a long, beak-like nose. Pale green eyes peered up at him, urging him to stop.

But Edward couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Did he even want to stop?

And so he would wake, the familiar haze of the dream dissipating as he hesitantly regards his slumbering bedfellow – dead to the world except the one he was currently in, but thankfully, very much alive.

Edward wondered if Oswald dreamed of happier times. While their relationship was beneficial to them both, Edward knew that Oswald would only be truly happy when he was King of Gotham once more. Oswald’s downfall was unfair, considering the amount of work he had put into claiming the title in the first place. Oswald had played the game, perhaps neither fairly or squarely, but he’d played the game and he’d won, quite brilliantly. The fact that one fly in the ointment – in this case Theo Galavan – could bring down his entire empire was unsettling, but such is the life of crime.

Perhaps someday, with Galavan removed from the equation, Oswald would wear his crown anew. Plus, this time, with Edward by his side, he would be a force to be reckoned with.

****

The truth of the matter was, since accepting his current living situation, Oswald dreamed of very little. While occasionally he would relive the last moments of his dear mother, for the most part, he dreamed of nothing at all.

It was on one such dreamless and tranquil occasion when Oswald awoke to find himself in an unorthodox situation.

****

“Hold still.”

“Hmm-mm?”

“I said: Hold. Fucking. Still.”

Through the cobwebs of lingering sleep, Oswald is aware that Edward is above him, straddling him. There’s a chilling look in his deep-brown eyes that Oswald has seen before – most notably on the occasion when they were enjoying a little retribution via the murder of Galavan’s employee, Mr. Leonard. It is not the glassy stare of a person who is still asleep, and possibly unaware of their actions. Edward is fully awake, and terrifying.

“Ed, what are you-” Oswald begins, as Edward bears down further, his erection fully apparent and pressing into Oswald’s stomach.

“I’m sorry, Oswald. He’s in control now.” Edward’s voice is deeper, looser than usual. He grins at Oswald with a formidable display of teeth, and Oswald shivers involuntarily.

Oswald’s instinct is to fight back, to struggle. Knowing that this could possibly be to his detriment, Oswald suppresses these urges and remains still.

Edward’s hands explore him, pawing and clawing. His pyjama pants are yanked down savagely, and as Edward wraps one hand around Oswald’s cock, he pins his wrists above his head with the other. Their faces inches apart now, Edward smirks as he begins to stroke.

It’s rough – too rough, and Oswald squeezes his eyes tight and internally curses his body for betraying him, as his cock stiffens in Edward’s punishing grip.

“Look at me.”

“F-fuck you,” Oswald croaks, his voice threatening to crack into a hiccuping sob. He does as he is told, however, reluctantly opening his eyes to view his leering aggressor.

Edward, seemingly satisfied at Oswald’s compliance, persists with his torment, pumping Oswald’s dick with increased frenzy as he sucks angry red marks onto Oswald’s pale neck.

Oswald wonders how long this might go on for, and what it might lead to. He’s willing himself above all else not to come, but his body has other plans. Edward’s face is above him once more: eyes boring into him, lips curled into a salacious smirk, the expression of a predator. There’s a triumphant and chilling giggle from Edward when Oswald finally concedes, his semen spraying his belly in a warm streak, a gasp caught in the back of his throat.

“Are you finished?” Oswald dares, almost defiantly.

“What do you fucking think.” It’s a statement, not a question, and with a grunt, Edward rolls Oswald over onto his front, pinning his arms behind his back.

Oswald is exhausted, sore, and compromised. He hisses at the feeling of his spent cock rubbing against the mattress beneath him, and Edward wastes no time forcing himself inside. Oswald wants to cry out, but instead he buries his head in his pillow, his eyes squeezed shut as his body adjusts to the intrusion. The pain is acute, as Edward penetrates Oswald completely, and their balls slap together rhythmically as he hammers into the smaller man. Oswald winces as the feeling of sheer powerlessness, which – combined with the friction from the mattress on his abused cock – overwhelms him. Despite himself, he emits a low groan.

“You can do better than that,” Edward growls. With one hand, he relinquishes his grip on Oswald’s wrists, and grabs a handful of jet-black hair – tugging Oswald’s head backwards sharply. “I know you can. Let me hear you.”

_ “Fffuuck!”  _ Oswald blurts out as Edward continues to pound into him. He’s aching inside and out and he knows what’s coming, even before Edward releases his hair and wraps his long fingers around his cock once again.

“No-  _ fuck, _ aah!” Oswald hisses through gritted teeth as Edward’s hand – slick with sweat – works him violently. It’s almost too much to bear, and Oswald’s vision begins to swim as tears threaten to leak from his eyes.

Oswald can tell Edward is close now, his movements becoming more pronounced as he works himself to his climax. Each press inside is timed with another stroke to Oswald’s dick, and despite it all, despite the pain and the frenzy, Oswald cries out as he shoots hard across the bedsheets. Seemingly sated, Edward thrusts one final time, before coming with a profane shout and filling Oswald to the brim.

Shuddering and gasping for air, Edward dismounts, laying down next to Oswald as they look one another in the eye.

“You could have used the safeword,” Edward smiles, as he strokes the gangster’s hair with a tender touch.

“I know,” Oswald nods. “But I didn’t want to.”

 

Oswald Cobblepot felt safe with Edward Nygma, but sometimes – he didn’t want to.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me. Hopefully the ending absolved me somewhat.
> 
> [okimi79.tumblr.com](http://okimi79.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Click here for an artist's impression!](http://why-not-edwald.tumblr.com/post/141139049498/inspired-by-this-fan-fiction-i-probably-didnt)
> 
> [And click here for another - and possibly one of the most beautiful pieces I've ever seen in my life.](http://riddlelvr.tumblr.com/post/144463763780/oswald-cobblepot-felt-safe-with-edward-nygma-but)


End file.
